Withdrawal symptoms

I get extremely agitated and tensed when I don't write for so long. So much happens in a span of a few days that to think of how to bring the words out succinctly is perplexing. I shall try.

*breathes deeply*

Out of the big lists of things that have happened, it is safe to say that the most significant of them is the fact that I now have a job. On the day of my last exam, I had three job offers in my hand. And only a couple of days ago, I had none. Funny how life works out sometimes. Just when I had accepted that it is highly likely that I might have to go home unemployed, something clicked. But I applied somewhere at the right place at the right time. So now, Bangalore it is. I'm excited and nervous. I'm exervous. I really like the city, my friends will also be there, I think I will enjoy my work. The thing I'm most looking forward to is managing my own finances. Finally, I'll be earning. No more a parasite. I would be producing, instead of consuming. I'm employed! :)

The first thing I felt after I received the call was.. relief. Not joy, not excitement. I just sighed and sat limp for a while at the thought that I would not have to give any more interviews. No more people sitting across me and judging me. It is time for me to really give everything I have. Just be good at something. To do something. Have an identity.

I'm not sure I'm handling it very well, though. The suddenness of this. Sure, I have a job. Is it really such a big achievement? To be honest, I'm quite terrified of what lies ahead. What if I don't perform well? What if I don't enjoy my work? What if I don't get along with the people? Plus, I'm going to the city alone. Looking for a place on my own. This time, it is permanent. This time, I cannot be unhappy. I have to mould myself in order to enjoy what I have.

One of the questions the interviewer asked me was, "If you were an animal, which one would you be, and why?" He gave me no time to think, and for some reason I could only picture giraffes. I think I thought of them because they are so tall and slender, and well I have extremely long limbs. But to him, I had to give a substantive answer, so I said, "Because they have the advantage of reaching the inaccessible juicy leaves on the tall trees. Oh, and they can run free and wild on the grassy plains." And I had a faraway expression and a stupid grin on my face while I said that. (Inside my head I was shrieking at myself, "What?! Juicy leaves?! Grassy plains?! What did you just say to him? Be professional! Sound intelligent! You've blown it, blown it I say!") Thankfully, he just laughed and let it be. I think I'm always going to remember this. Giraffe. Sheesh :P

The other significant thing that happened and broke my heart to smithereens was that college got over. Completely. I felt it dawning over me when I had my last lunch in the mess, when I packed my bags till they looked like they were swollen and overflowing, when mom and dad came to wrap everything up and take me back home. My mom loved my campus. We sat together, tea cups in hand, watching the sunset. Dad said, "So your last sunset, eh?" And I swear I welled up. The hills contain too many, just too many memories.

People always complained while we were there. 'Oh it's so far away from civilization.' 'I hate coming back before 11.' There's nothing to do here.' 'It's so boring.' 'The mess food is so bad.' Many of them were happy to get rid of the place. I never understood them. How can you not love a place so beautiful? A campus so pretty with such good infrastructure? A nice, clean, comfortable hostel with a gorgeous view? One of my professors told me that we all take this place for granted and don't appreciate it for what it is. I told him that I did not. I felt lucky every day I was there. I would give up anything to be in a place with such natural beauty, than live in a concrete jungle full of honking cars and imposing buildings. I tried to soak it all in, because I knew I would not get two whole languorous years on such a picturesque campus.

It is a scientific fact that our brain has a habit of phasing out all the bad memories and retaining the good ones, and that is why when we look back on our childhood, we remember it fondly as if it was the best time ever. It probably was, but the point is, the more time passes, events seem grander than they were in our heads. I was probably miserable when I was eight, seeing as I hated school and fought furiously with my sister and brother and always had problems with math. But now when I think about it, I would give up everything up to be 8 again.

When it comes to my college life at Lavale, it was already so grand while it was happening. I don't need time to pass to look back at it and think of how wonderful the time was. I felt that when it was happening. I was so aware of it. It was Unagi. When I was running back to the hostel on a rainy day after class, half-drenched and laughing, I felt it. When I sipped hot coffee on a chilly night with my friends, felt the breeze blowing my hair back, and gazed at the sky which was always, always so amazingly clear, I felt it. When I sat in class and we laughed together at a joke our professor made, I felt it. When we all danced to a stupid Bollywood song at one of our go-to place for drinks, I felt it. I felt it in all those small moments. I felt thankful. I knew I was living one of the best, most amazing, most exciting years of my life. I can only wonder how grander they would appear when I am 50 and I think about them then.

I knew I was going through withdrawal symptoms when I woke up in the morning and it took me a couple of minutes to realize that I am not in my hostel room. I didn't see the pink curtains, with the shadows of the leaves dancing on it. I was in a room where I couldn't hear the chatter and laughter of the students at PMC. It took me a while to get out of bed.

I'm listening to a song called 'Daydreaming' by Dark Dark Dark which makes me think of it all the more. You will understand if you were a student on our campus.

"Oh now look to the east, great mountains remember me,
It's land I can see for miles, with only the wind whispering,
And oh if you knew what it meant to me,
You would see it too."

(One evening on the terrace)

(On the way to class)

(View from the hostel terrace)

(Depression point)

(View from the amphitheater)

(My room. And fairy lights)

(View from the football field at sunset)

(One beautiful, foggy evening)

I'll miss college terribly. I can't believe I won't go back to my room, meet Possum and break into our renditions of all the silly songs we sing. I can't believe I won't greet all my friends with warm hugs, high-fives and discuss our vacations. I can't believe I won't have the view. Oh, the view.

I had decided that after I write a post about it, I might get some closure. Then I will not look at my college life with woeful reminiscence, but a surreal satisfaction of living it. I was there. I lived it. It's time to look ahead. It's going to be frightening and maddening at times. But now I will be an adult in the truest sense of the word. I finally control the steering wheel of this car called life. And I can't wait.

Goodbye Lavale. You were incredible.

The one about obscure joys and sorrows

I’m listening to the Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. The song that plays when Ross and Rachel are in the planetarium on their first date. (If you don’t know who they are we can’t be friends) Mushy mushy mushy. I love his voice. This song is so romantic. It makes me melt. I’m just a sucker for this kind of stuff. Sigh.

Possum and I have been gorging on Friends and unhealthy mid-night Balaji chips and cookie binges. I’ve realized we have memorized almost all the episodes now.  There is not one reference or a joke related to the show that we won’t get. It is amazing how they maintained the quality and the humour for ten seasons. Brilliant. There are some scenes I have to pause to laugh at. And I feel the same amount of sadness when they all keep down their keys of the apartment in the finale episode.

I’ve been reading The Alchemy of Desire by Tarun Tejpal. It’s quite intriguing. I stayed awake all night reading it. My head is full of the book right now. I like the way the convoluted emotions have been explained in the story. It seems like the narrator is unraveling them while he is writing all his revelations out. Since I was up all night, I went for an early breakfast. Ah, the mess was almost empty. Chattu and I sat outside the mess, sipped tea and looked at the misty view for quite some time. There were dew drops dangling on the green leaves and the small buildings looked like building blocks. I like it when all the assignments are done, and you can just sit back, deep breathe and relax. Ah, the campus is breathtaking then. If there is one thing I would crave once I leave this place is the silence. The sheer solitude and the peace. Now when I go to the city and I’m standing on a busy road I keep wondering where everyone is going. Why are there so many people? Why are they all in a rush? Where are they going? Why don’t they look happy? It puts me off. We have screwed up. We are way too many people. I’d rather prefer half the current population to just stop existing. It’s a transhumanist, almost evil thought, but seriously, either that or we have to bear the consequences of fornicating so much.

Do you sometimes enter phases where you’re sitting and you zone out of a conversation and start staring at nothing in particular? You’re not even thinking about anything. It’s like you just stop functioning for a second. Yes? Well, I have been reading The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and I found the exact term for that phenomenon. Ambedo: a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

That website is excellent. They have words for the exact emotions which everyone feels but no names have been invented yet. There is one which I particularly relate with. And indulge in. Gnasche: the intense desire to bite deeply into the forearm of someone you love. See? I’m not insane. This happens to other people. Or I don’t mind being insane. Who cares?

Some other terms I was vehemently nodding my head in agreement were:

 Sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

Vellichor:  the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

Anecdoche: a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.

Flashover: the moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you’ve built up through decades of friction with the world.

Wonderful, right? So intricately and gorgeously expressed. Go ahead. Google them!

In other news, chances are I might end up in Bombay for my winter internship. Nothing is confirmed yet, but fingers crossed. I don’t know what is in store for me. The city intimidates me. It has this throbbing, pulsating, almost unnerving sort of a feel to it. It’s exciting, but you never know when it might just pounce on you. My feelings toward it are the kind you have for your physics teacher you kind of had a crush on. He scared you, even annoyed you, but you wanted to attend all his classes anyway.

The classes for the third semester are over. Every time I say this out loud to Possum or tell her how much time is left, she quivers her lips and then covers her ears up. How is it that time keeps slipping out of your hands and then makes you realize that there was so much that you had planned to do and just couldn’t do it due to some reason or the other? Here’s a quick list of the things I have to do before I leave:

1.       Go to Depression point again

2.       Go to a disc/pub with friends and stay out at night

3.       Walk all the way down the campus and climb one of the peaks and sit there

4.       Go on one more trip with friends with the epicness greater or equal to the epicness of the Kashid trip

5.       Stay awake all night and watch the sunrise with the others

6.       Go to a Karaoke pub and SING

7.       Buy the damn thermocol sheet and make a bulletin board lest Possum peals my skin off

These are the ones that come to mind as of now. Will add more later. Can you believe I will be 23 in another month? I always thought 23-year-olds are responsible, independent, strong, career-oriented, ready-for-marriage type of women. I wasn’t even over the shock of turning 22. I feel 16. Where is my life going?

Before I start hyperventilating, I will move to happier topics. I always had this mental image in my mind before I joined this college, that I will have a big group of girly friends who will be always there for me, and we would share everything. Well. That didn’t happen. Lots of things didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to be. I got a lot of rude shocks and unpleasant realizations about a lot of things. And that is how life is. The things you really want might not happen, but sooner or later you realize you did manage to squeeze out some precious memories and you do end up making friends. Because there will always be people who you can call your closest buddies. And life is just a little less dreary then.

And now, as Norah Jones is crooning in my ears, I’ll stop writing because this post is turning into a rather long disjointed flurry of scattered thoughts. So long!

P.S. Possum broke something that belonged to me a while back and so she got me an earthen wall hanging which is a half a sun and half a moon. Night and day. Yin and Yang. I love her! :)

P.P.S. I have a new possible pen name. The Radical Slug. How does it sound? Will explain the story behind it later :)

'Cause I've got a peaceful, easy feeling :)

A few days back a friend visited the campus and he made me look at my campus in awe all over again, through the eyes of an outsider. I live in the kind of place where people pay thousands of rupees to go vacationing to. I have been dabbling into a lot of new music and I’m addicted to two new bands, Broken Bells and Imagine Dragons. They go really well with the overall atmosphere of this place. A couple of days back Possum and I went up on our terrace, in a desperate attempt to do something ‘spontaneous’ because we suddenly realized how little time is left before our time here gets over. Third semester flew by. Literally. 'Not like a an aeroplane, but like a rocket.' When I think about it, it seems like a flurry of assignments, workshops and guest lectures. And funny one liners and insane laughter sessions at night.

And oh, sleeping like this every day.

It rained gloriously today. With frighteningly loud thunder and purple lightning. It has been pouring since the past few days and it makes me enter this euphoric stupor where I suddenly fall in love with everything around me. It felt amazing to just sit back and observe the rain. The water gushed underneath our feet, down the sloping road as we made our way back to the hostel. We felt the spray of the water and we observed some juniors sailing some paper boats in the streams.

There was a stormy, torrential downpour at night again, and as I walked back towards the hostel under my umbrella I knew I had to get drenched. It was time. I ran back to the hostel, changed into my shorts and asked my crazy neighbor who I knew would be crazy enough to join me in my craziness and took her to the terrace. We stood there, giggling, scaring passersby on the road below and just sharing the beauty of the moment. I don’t know what it is about getting soaked to the bone. Maybe it’s the thrill, maybe it’s defying what you’re supposed to do. Maybe it’s the pleasure of letting go despite the risk of falling sick.

I went to Mumbai recently to shoot a documentary film we are working on. The reality shook me up a bit. The real world is not like my campus. It's not always rainbows and butterflies and sunsets and trees. It's sweat. It's hordes of people pushing you. It's homeless people. It's people who try to swindle you. It's hours of travelling that sucks all your energy out. It's dust. It's haggling with autowallas. It's not easy. And once I start working I will have to deal with this everyday of my life. I don't feel ready for this. And yet when I'm thrown out there, I feel like I'll live.

I cannot get over how much I have changed in the past one year. Earlier I saw, but never really observed. I heard, but never really listened. I felt, but never really thought. I feel like my senses have opened so much more to everything that happens. I enjoy silence more than loud noises now. I look for solitude instead of large crowds. I am...quieter. Well, relatively. I'm more cynical. I still romanticize mostly everything in life, but a lot of my unreasonable expectations have taken a backseat. I’m still a big bag of emotions, opening myself to those precious few, but deep underneath a lot of creases have smoothed over time. I feel like I needed to clear my head a bit. There is a little more clarity when it comes to setting my priorities straight. I still don’t know what exactly I want from life, but I don’t let it bother me as much. I’ll figure it out.

For now, I’m just happy to have a roommate with whom I can share anything with. I’m happy I came to terms with my past and I'm happy I did not lose the people I cared about. I still have that friend who will burn and send me CDs of my favourite TV shows. I am happy I have that one person to walk around with, the one who completely ‘indulges me’, the one who shakes trees to make water fall down on me and run away laughing like a child. I’m happy I have that one friend who has worse existential crises than me and complains how she doesn't want to do anything anymore. I'm happy I have that one friend who I can count on when I want to discuss anything with, the things that 'normal' people won't understand. And a mom who pings me on Whatsapp asking 'Mela baby homesick hai?' And a dad who is okay with me wanting to go backpacking to another country because he is okay with everything. And a sister who constantly asks me to intern in Singapore so that 'we can be crazy with each other.' I'm happy for all these people in my life, because each one has a different purpose, and each one has a different place in my life, and I’m a completely different person with all of them. It's like they are my horcruxes. Life has never seemed so comfortable, and so full of exciting possibilities :)

P.S. I bought a camera! Sharing my photostream here! Do give me feedback on the pictures :)
Click here.

A random 'I'm-home' post

I’m home. I just realized why people love being home so much. They can be utterly carefree and comfortable. They are with people who know them inside out and love them anyway in a manner not possible with anyone else. Those people know little, insignificant things about each other’s lives and you can recall, and reconnect and laugh about it all.

Home feels perfect after my stay at Delhi. I can do what I want. Get up late, and have the entire day sprawled in front of me. I watched the season finale of The Office. I knew it was going to be awesome, but it was much more than that. I love the couple Jim and Pam, and at one point in my life I thought I had what they had. But I didn’t. Then at another point of time I thought I had it again. But I didn’t. And I’m in this confused turmoil where everything seems haywire. Which is why it is really good for me right now to be at home. I have switched my phone off and thrown it in some corner of the house. It was to prove a point to myself. I wanted to do the same with my laptop, but I obviously couldn’t do it. So I’ve disconnected myself from absolutely everyone apart from my family. I don’t want to think anymore. Can I just run away from all the people I know and I've known and loved and never have to deal with anything ever again? 

Even though getting rid of my phone seems to be working, I sometimes get curious to switch it on, but I tell myself otherwise. Must. NOT. Touch. Phone. I feel numb to all the negativity. I can’t feel anything. I'm too exhausted to feel anything. (Emotionally) And when it comes to me, that's rare. Yesterday I went to see Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani and I knew I wasn’t going to like it but I wanted to go out with everyone. And I laughed. A lot. Even though it was mostly because of the little kid sitting next to us who was jumping, clapping and laughing at every scene in the first half of the movie. Mom dropped almost all the popcorn in an entire tub, and the coffee hardly had any sugar, and ten minutes later the movie threw all palpable logic out of the window, but I seriously enjoyed myself. There’s a scene in the movie where Ranbir and Deepika are sightseeing in Udaipur, and they are sitting on top of this tall fort overlooking the city. And he’s telling her to hurry up otherwise they would miss some show. And she tells him, “No matter what you do in life, you’re missing out on something or the other. You can’t have everything. So why don’t you just enjoy the present?” And they sit there and watch the sunset.

I welled up at that scene because that made so much sense. Just cherish what you have. Right now. Don’t think about everything you could have been doing, because there is a LOT. Instead, try to make every situation worthwhile. I don't know why I keep forgetting that.

We also went for a nice family dinner to a good restaurant, and the food, the conversations, the drive back home, singing along with the songs, everything just makes me feel so much closer to my family. Papa, mumma, didoo and mangu. We don’t need anyone else. Mom is hilarious, and dad is really cute. Today when we all got dressed before going out, we started clicking pictures, and he started jumping like a little kid. It was so adorable. Didoo and I can entertain each other for hours on end. Mangu needs to be a little alive though. At home I feel like a complete kid again. Somewhere I can do anything in the world. Sing a Himesh Reshammiya song and shake my bum like a mad man. A place where you get each other's jokes and idiosyncrasies. A place where I can sit in the midst of my relatives and make them laugh their guts out.

In the last episode of The Office, Pam tells the viewers to always go for what will make you happy. She wants to tell all the girls out there to be strong, be confident enough to go for what they really want, and not for what they think they should do. And they should act fast because life isn’t really that long.

But what if you don’t even know what you want anymore?

Once my stint at home comes to an end, and I head back to college, I know I’m going to have to decide this.

Or maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want to do anything but enjoy my last year as a student. Be happy. Really happy. For now though, it’s 15 days without a care in the world.

Sharing a couple of super cute pictures!

(Doo, mom, moi)

(Mummy love)

Govindpuri Gali Number Do

I feel sort of terrified today. There's a little over a week left for my internship to get over, and for my stay here in Delhi to come to an end. How do I feel? It’s quite indescribable at the moment. But I’m sure it’ll still be indescribable by the end of it.

Govindpuri Gali number do. My temporary abode for 2 months.

It has been surprisingly smooth, and bewilderingly comfortable. Apart from the unforgiving heat which rose to such inhuman levels only in the past few days, my entire time here has been a phase which I’m going to keep with me for a long time to come. I never thought till even a couple of years back that I would have such a F.R.I.E.N.D.S-ish life. I’ve never experienced such freedom in the past 22 years of my life. Living with 5 of your friends, in a good locality close to your office has been one of the most exciting things I’ve done so far. I realized only today how much I’m going to miss this.

I can’t really put all of those small, incalculable and innumerable little moments that made our stay here so memorable, but I’m going to list out my favourite bits.

1. Ordering food from Takkar dhaba everyday till the owner could recognize our voices and know exactly where to deliver it. Experimenting with food. Using leftovers to invent new recipes. The thrill of cooking for each other. The satisfaction of a good, cheap meal. The lure of street food.

2. Taking a break from the office and stepping out to have the deservedly famous chhola kulcha from the nearby chhola kulcha wala bhaiya. And enjoying it. Every time.

3. Watching CID, Rajnikant, old timey brainless movies and trashing them to bits and laughing. Also, the enormous amount of Nat Geo and Discovery shows we “ohh-ed” and “wow-ed” at. Taboo, Frozen Planet, Body Bizarre, Man vs Wild. Watching food channels and then feeling bad that we can’t make what they make.

4. Buying stuff for the house from the grocery store. Liquid dish cleaner, broom, vegetables, fruits, spices. Surprising each other with a little pastry or a chocolate.

5. Getting up late at night, and scrounging in the kitchen like a rat to look for something to eat.

6. Going to the terrace to enjoy the cool breeze, and ending up rolling on the floor laughing at the outrageous artificial movies that we made each other enact. (Thandi laash mein garam chhuri, Rice mein electric pole, Latakte bridge pe bhatakti aatma)

7. Stepping out without any plan, and asking each other “where are we going?” in the metro. Then going to India gate, Dilli Haat, CP or Jama Masjid and walking about.

8. Going to parathe wali gali. Having a million parathas. Followed by the thickest lassi, jalebi and rabdi. Mmm!

9. Letting each other be. Everyone doing their own things. Reading, sleeping, watching a movie, or just lying listless for no reason.

10. Telling each other all the events of the day, enacting co-workers or narrating incidents. College gossip.

11. The day we all stayed in. Had litchis, and watched Hera Pheri and Hungama.

12. The evening tea. (“Anyone wants chui?”) The occasional Maggi. Sprinkled with grated cheese.

13. Scrambled eggs. Boiled eggs. Sunny side ups. Omelettes. Egg rolls.

14. MOMOS!

15. Aloo chaat.

16. Corn flakes.

17.  Chhole poori and boondi ka raita for 20 rupees.

18. The narrow, flies-ridden, congested galis of Govindpuri. The madness. The temporary bazaar every Wednesday. People riding bikes on the footpath, honking like there’s no tomorrow, ladies shopping, guys eating and spitting, dogs mucking about.

19. Smiling at each other after a day’s work. Deciding where to go to grab a bite. Or writing “Anyone home? Want samosas? Ice cream?” on the Whatsapp group.

20. Making fun of each other. Copying each other. Bini going “Aiyo, so saaad. Look at the poor thing,” at every animal on TV. Avaneesh saying to Bear Grylls, “Eat something!” or “You dumb fuck” to a random person talking about the divinity of god. Arnab saying “Good shit.” Nayan going, “Oh you know what will happen after this?” in EVERY movie.

21. The randomness. The spontaneity. Watching funny videos on Youtube, or wearing watermelon skin as a helmet. Breaking into a sudden dance step, or singing a dumb song on the top of our lungs.

22. Going to Sarojini Nagar market and buying cheap clothes. The National Museum. Daryaganj book bazaar. India Habitat Center. Chocolate almond ice cream at Giani's. Hauz Khas village. Deer Park. Bohome. Zaitoon. Yeti.

23. GK 2 M Block market. Our office. The idle hours at work. Lunch for 35 rupees on the road side.

24. Reading a book pretending to do some extensive research in office. Covering events. The feeling of seeing your byline in the magazine.

25. Haggling with the auto walla everyday “Bhaiya 50 nahin, hum roz chalees mein jaate hain!”

26. Knowing you never have to come back to an empty house and someone will always be there to listen to how bad your day was.

27. Walking around Chandni Chowk and marveling at how it has a church, a temple, a dargah and a mosque all at the same place.

28. The selfish contentment of knowing you are never alone. You’re cared for. And loved. And pampered.

29.  Going to Central Park under the impression there’s going to be a Euphoria performance. Watching Uma Lala’s concert instead. And getting our asses wet.

30.  Getting caught in a sandstorm outside India gate. Sitting on the grass, talking and singing for hours.

31. Having the luxury and the time to read. Coming home early from work and having the entire evening stretched out lazily before you. Watching the flickering lights of the airplanes flying across the sky every 2 minutes on the terrace.

32. Reading out to each other. Devising plans to kill certain people. Or how to get rich quick. Endless discussions on the terrace about existence. Or science fiction.

33. Discussing new Game of Thrones episodes.

34.  Go Goa Gone. Acting like zombies.

35. Shouting.

36. Having the inevitable veg vs non veg or north vs south or Bangalore vs Kolkata debate before every meal.

37. Talking. Actually, talking about things. Sitting out in the balcony and having tea and chips. Hugging each other randomly, jumping around, putting new magazines in the magazine stand, drunk dialing, trying out new yoga poses, chocolate sandwiches, peanut butter muffin, Subway cookie, paratha pizza, Arnab Goswami screaming at News Hour, putting ice cubes down each other’s backs and making ghost noises during powercuts.

And the other countless, priceless memories I can’t think of right now but will come flying back to me on a balmy summer evening sometime in the future. After all, life is nothing but a series of memories, right?

It’s funny how you think 2 months is a long time, and then it just comes to an end in a jiffy. 

Govindpuri gali number do, I’ll never forget you. 

The Dream

She could see the back of his head as they made their way through the crowded railway station. It seemed like a time eons ago or in the future, and a place quite unlike anything she’d ever seen. He would sometimes move forward and she would be left scrambling, scrunching her face as she pushed herself forward, not moving her eyes away from the back of his rather huge head, lest they get separated.

It seemed like a high-tech, advanced railway station, with shining smooth trains, and computer operated passageways and terminals. It was unlike any other railway stations she had seen in India. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks as something dawned upon her. He had gone quite far ahead. He came back when he realized she wasn’t behind him.

“What are you doing? Come on, we’ll miss the train!”

“I.. I can’t go to Bombay with you.”

“What? Don’t say that now. We had planned this. You wanted to do this.”

“I did. But now, I know that if I don’t stay back and give my interview, I might regret it for the rest of my life. Don’t you want me to get the opportunity which would make me get the job in Australia?”

“Yes, but.. but you told me Bombay was what you wanted. With me.”

“The interviewers can come to India anytime in the next two days. I have to stay back. I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

The look on his face was the most painful expression she had ever seen. Her heart leaped out of her chest for him, but she stood rooted to her spot. His eyes glistened as he said, “Okay. All the best.” He turned and left. She stood there and looked at him until he dissolved in the crowd, and the back of his head was no longer visible.

She closed her eyes, and breathed. Long and hard. She turned back and started walking but her legs felt like they were made of iron. Flashes of the past whizzed through her brain like a movie montage and she screamed, “Fuck it! I’m going with him.”

She ran. She pushed through the crowd, and ran like she had never run before. On a railway station swarming with people. She ran towards his platform, and saw him disappear behind a glass door, which lifted him up on another platform.

She ran. She does not remember for how long, and how she made her way through the hordes of people, but she finally saw him standing in front of his train, saying goodbye to his best friends. He held her yellow top, which she remembered she had given him, and which always smelled of her. His expression seemed blank now, like it didn’t matter whether he goes to Bombay or stays back anymore.

He saw her. And for a second, he didn’t believe it. As soon as he realized it was indeed her, she saw him grinning the broadest smile. Relief swept over his face like a gentle breeze, and he walked towards her. He was almost gliding towards her, making his way perfectly through the bustling people, looking only at her.

She ran up to him and buried her face in his shoulder, like she always did whenever she did something stupid. “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? I want us to go to Bombay.” She looked up at him. “Together.”

He smiled, brushed a strand of hair off her face, and kissed her nose. “We will go to Bombay. Just, not this time. You were thinking right. You should give the interview. I want you to go abroad. You always wanted to.”

She looked at him, her heart melting and no words coming out of her mouth. The train whistled, and the passengers started rushing inside. “You want me to..?”

He nodded, and hugged her tight. Tears filled her eyes, when she realized what this meant. They would not see each other. Not for a long, long time. “Bye, love”, he whispered. “Bombay beckons.”

“I love you,” she said, tears streaming down her eyes now. He held her hands and kissed them. He got in the train, and waved at her. He pursed his lips like he always did, and then lifted his glasses up, to wipe a lone tear hanging at the side of his eye.

She stood there and waved till the train left and went out of sight. She knew something had come to an end. She knew he had taken away a part of her with him that day. But she also knew they would meet again. And when they did, it would be beautiful.  

Rewind. Stop. Play.

“Kyun na hum tum,
Chalein tedhe medhe se raston pe
Nange paon re,
Chal bhatak lena baanwre”

Have you listened to the soundtrack of Barfi? Though the movie was disappointing, the music is almost heartbreakingly magical. It only adds to my already painfully nostalgic existence. It’s funny how I’m always reminiscing at this age. When I’m 70 I’ll probably kill myself.

When I was downloading the album from the file-sharing software through which our entire college is connected, I realized how easy it is now to get songs and movies. It hardly takes a few seconds. Wow. Sometimes I fondly look back at the times when cassettes were the latest thing, and we had to stand in line in a music shop, buy a cassette for 50 rupees, and if we were lucky, get a two-in-one tape with songs of two movies in it! Oh how thrilling it used to be to remove the plastic, put the shiny new cassette in the car’s stereo system, read everything written on the cover, and listen to those 8 odd songs over and over again till the cassette would be ready to disintegrate into a thousand little pieces. During family trips, those handful of songs used to be such loyal companions. We would listen to the songs so many times that every beat, every rhythm, every syllable would get embedded into our conscience so deeply that we would probably never forget them in this lifetime. I still remember every word and every musical instrument used in all those Dil to Pagal Hai and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai songs and I can sing them with the same amount of impossible energy and enthusiasm as I did when I was 8.

My earliest memories of movies are the ones dad had recorded for us on the VCR. Chaalbaaz, Andaaz Apna Apna and Saajan were a few of them. Watching Tom and Jerry was a ritual. Lion King, Home Alone, Dunston checks in, Mrs. Doubtfire led us into fascinating, obscure worlds. We were the first family in our locality to buy a small Sony CD player and getting a new movie CD on rent and watching it on the TV used to be an event. Generally on weekends, the drawing room used to be alive with relatives plonked on soft white mattresses, the soothing roar of the air cooler in the background, the entire family would sit together and get lost in the world of make-believe, glamour and artificial characters. Funny, comical movies used to be the best. I can still recall dad’s face red and contorted with the effort of trying to suppress the laughter, tears flowing down mom’s eyes as she laughed uncontrollably, my brother rolling on the floor laughing that distinct high-pitched laughter of his and my sister, almost falling off the sofa more at the others than what was happening in the movie itself. Sometimes there used to be mom’s pav-bhaji with lots of butter and Coke, and sometimes there used to be aloo poori with that one inevitable cup of chai that always had to follow, and there was that little argument about who was going to make it.

Even going out to watch the 9 to 12 movie show in the traditional theatres was an experience. Having an early dinner and getting ready, buying tickets and popcorn, and watching the movie with the family, and always, always wrapping mom’s chunni around me when it got too chilly inside the hall. Discussing the movie and asking everyone “Movie kaisi lagi?” (How did you like the movie?) in the car on the way back. Stopping on the way for ice-cream or paan.

Winter nights were spent watching silly hows like Comedy Circus, CID, KBC or Aahat or any movie being shown on the TV whatsoever, snuggled inside fluffy quilts chewing carelessly on peanuts or cashews. The first sentence after switching the TV on used to be “Dekho koi achchi picture aa rahi hai kya?” (See if there’s a good movie on TV!) Making fun of all the make-up wearing, glycerine-using, poor housewives in all of the K serials mom used to watch. The afternoons were a blur of Rasna, Khas, water melons and naps in front of the cooler after watching the ‘70s and ‘80s movies with grandparents.

It was a time when a few clicks and a few seconds were not enough to get access to the enchanting, wonderful world of movies and music. I often feel I was lucky to be born in a typical middle class family in India in the ‘90s because I have seen the transition every so clearly right in front of my eyes. God bless technology that we are exposed to so many documentaries and movies that one lifetime would not be enough.

But sometimes, I yearn for that time, I long to be that little girl again, perched on that maroon sofa in a small house in a small town, sipping Rooh Afza with my laughing, chortling family around me because Paresh Rawal said something funny to Sunil Shetty in Aawara Pagal Deewana.

Dilli diaries: Part III

This is the first time in five months that I’m sitting on my own bed, I’m sleeping in my fluffy blanket, and the first thing I see when I get up is my purple wall. I’M HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME! Coming home after staying at another place is quite indescribable, and only the person who actually experiences it knows what it feels like. When I sit in my room now, it’s like I had never left home at all! Like the five months in college never happened! And yet at the same time, it feels so different.

I still remember how I felt a few days before I left home, the apprehension, the excitement, the hollow pit in my stomach. Now I feel like I’m not the same person anymore. So much has changed since the last time I was here. So much. And yet, all these little reminders in my room tell me that I’m still the same person, and perhaps will always be. Talking to mummy is still refreshing, making tea in the kitchen feels so warm and homely, uninterrupted internet connection is bliss, waking up to the reassuring hum of the washing machine and going through all my old books and diaries. Sigh, it’s brilliant to be home. I needed this.

Delhi was absolutely wonderful to me. And because Diwali is around the corner, it was gorgeous and exciting. I turned 22. Yes, it hurts to say that. I had JUST turned 21, and I wasn’t even over the shock when BAM! I turned another year older :/ I just wish I could stay 22 for another five years, and then move on. Time just whizzes by, it’s crazy!  Anyway, you always have people around you who make you feel so special on your birthday that it all seems worth it. People who gift you amazing, thoughtful books, and people who write poems for you, and people who get you toffee eclairs cake, and people who take you out on a drive on the highway and you can just sit on the window of the car and scream like a banshee against the wind. Also, people who make you have something so amazing as a Banoffee pie. Mmm!

I miss Delhi now. I miss travelling in the metro, counting the stations, standing till my legs felt like they would fall out. And I miss the brilliantly lit up Select City Walk with its fountains, and music and having warm chocolate donuts sitting in the chilly winter breeze. I miss working for the NGO, Vidya, and the little kids with the big sparkling eyes and the innocent grins. I miss walking on the roads, in the malls, I miss how there were always so many places to go to, and so many things to do. I miss the vibrant, shining, shimmering city. I really wish I get to visit it again soon.

For now, I think I’ll get back in my fluffy blanket again.

“If I lay here,

If I just lay here,

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Let’s waste time,

Chasing cars, in our heads.”

Dilli Diaries: Part II

"Ambar pe milte hain kadmon ke nishaan, tere hi har shaam,
Khidki pe likhe koi os ki boondon se, tera naam."

I cannot explain why this song makes me feel the way I feel when I listen to it. It brings back a lot of memories, and stirs emotions which I am always trying to hide.

It's the magic of music, I guess.

My blood test results are out, and turns out, I only had the sniffles, and not dengue. So I won't die. Yay? Yay.

Delhi is beautifully silent tonight. I'm so going to sleep. 

We should meet again, you and I

Down the road, somewhere in another world

In a white wonderland, on a marble bench

Sliding dew drops on a glass window pane

In a parallel universe, on a cliff overlooking a valley

On a park swing, hearts fluttering in the chill of a foggy night

In a galaxy far, far away on an apartment terrace underneath the stars

We should meet again, you and I

There can always be another goodbye

Another world. Another dimension.

The smell of cheese hanging in the air

The whiff of nostalgia and the whispers so crisp

The taste and the sweet melancholia

Salty lips and sleepy eyes

Dreams and smiles and melodic verses

We should meet again, you and I

You can keep asking yourself and never know why

Console yourself

Negotiate with your heart

Shush your soul

The answers are scattered

Flown away with the wind

Hiding in the sea shells, and in the clouds, and between your fingers

In the autumn winds, in the hill tops, and in the cold rain drops

We should meet again, you and I

We should meet in the sky; we should float in the air

We should talk of endless love, and our lives and the universe,

We should meet again, you and I

Yesterday

I miss a time long, long ago, and yet it feels like it was yesterday. I miss a world far, far away, and yet it seems like it’s right in front of me. Or is it? It is, right? Isn’t it?

I miss the negotiation of thoughts, I miss the careless flow of seemingly unimportant observations, I miss the natural flow of the unending chuckles, I miss the infinite pings and spurts.  I miss the flurry of emotions at a phone call, and peals of laughter after reading a text. I miss the sleepless nights and the restless days. I do not like the emotion running through me right now. I dislike the laughter in the hostel corridors; I hate the music wafting from the other room. I hate it when my eyes sting. I hate the gnawing gorge forming in my chest, and the hurtful stab in my gut. My days are breathless, a blurry array of countless activities. But the nights are hollow, throbbing with angst.

When you think you have nothing, it decides to give you everything. And when you finally realize you can have absolutely everything, it decides to take it all away from you. It takes some, it gives some. It gives all, and then takes it all away.

Well played, life. Well played. 

Tonight I choose to be sad

For all the relationships gone wrong; for all the misunderstandings; for all the broken promises and the failed friendships; for all the things that were never meant to be. For all the times I should have kept in touch but didn’t, all the times I should have called but didn’t and for all the plans that were never implemented. What idiots we all were. We never realized that things change. We never did think where we would be in the ignorance of being happy little kids. When we walked holding hands and snuck our little MP3 players in our pockets, earplugs in each ear, listening to our favourite songs, and when we lay in bed dreaming about the future and when we promised each other that our kids will marry each other. When we walked like old ladies in school, and skipped down staircases, when we wrote stories in college notebooks, when we made French toasts at night. 

How naïve we all are. Don’t we know things never remain the same? We sang songs and shared tiffin boxes and shared secrets and poured our hearts out to each other. We thought we would always be best friends, sharing each secret and each incident till we become old and wrinkly. We ran towards each other like lost lovers after a war, squealing and jumping. We talked on the phone for hours and plotted and planned and schemed. We made fun of people, and of each other. We laughed till tears spilled out of our eyes. We loved each other. How stupid were we. We should have known.

Times change. People drift apart. Maybe the only thing that changes is you yourself. Or your own perception about things. And it is okay if it is circumstantial. It is okay to let things go, because it is more painful to hold on to them. If it gave you enough warmth and love and joy to help you survive when you thought you could not cope with your life, then it was worth it all. Every relationship I have ever had has been special to me. I can relate to what Celine says in Before Sunset, “I feel I was never able to forget anyone I've been with. Because each person has specific qualities. You can never replace anyone. What is lost is lost.”

I miss the little things about people. I miss insignificant things about them, maybe the way they made a weird sound with their lips or maybe how they squinted in the sun or even the colour of their eyes.

Such silly little children we were when we painted bindis on each other's foreheads and laughed. When we made midnight meals and ate more than we studied. When we got Linkin Park trivia for each other or said that we were soul sisters. Little did we know that relationships are fragile. One slip, and down the rabbit hole they go. So I’m embracing the pain that comes along with losing friends. Morrie said that in order to detach yourself from a feeling, you have to drench yourself with it, dive head in all the way and throw yourself into the emotion instead of holding it back and being afraid of experiencing love or pain or grief. Because once you know you have fully experienced the emotion, you can tell yourself to get away from it. And finally move on.

So this is to all the friends I have ever had. I have never been good at keeping friends but the friends that did matter; I have loved them with all my heart had to give. KK has already put what I'm feeling into a song:


"Chal, sochein kya, choti si hai zindagi.
Kal, mil jaayein, toh hogi khushnaseebi."


So, now, as I move out and go into another world, I would like to express that each one of you were a part of my life. You've all had a role to play and you’ve all shaped me into what I am. I will carry little pieces of you in my heart, recalling only the good times. Times when we were stupid little idiots, without a care in the world. 

P.S. And maybe, just maybe, sit on a sofa again before a Maths exam, staring into space, bobbing our heads to a random song after having eaten a million packets of Blue Lay's.

The Teacher

Reading Tuesdays with Morrie has compelled me to go back into the old, school memories and think about one of the most influential people in my life. I still remember the burnt black marks on his hands. I noticed them first when I went to talk to him about my science project and I saw him closely for the first time. It was 9th grade. He had very dark, rugged skin, a thick black moustache, a deep, gruff voice, and a very serious expression on his face almost all the time. If it weren’t for his black, beady, affectionate eyes and his dimple, he would have been very unpleasant to look at. But he was not. He carried himself very well, was always well dressed, and every time he smiled, though seldom it used to be, his entire face used to light up, including his eyes. He was my Maths and Physics teacher.

 He believed in not only teaching us the subject and performing his duty; he used to make sure we really understood it. Every Monday and Friday we used to have Value Education classes. I never liked them, because before he started teaching us, Value Education classes were nothing but reading stories from Moral Science books and learning life lessons. But life’s lessons are not meant to be learnt off a book. I remember the first class with him. He taught us about the importance of behaving properly, dressing properly, and having manners. He gave examples from his own life, and I was so absorbed into his lecture, I never came to know when the class got over. At the end of the class, he asked us to dress neatly. Of course, I was a slob, and I conveniently forgot all about it. The next class, he checked everybody’s shoes, socks, clothes, ribbon, nails etc. He looked at my socks. They were dirty, their elastic had become useless and they fell all the way down to my ankles. He looked at me and said, “Have you seen the state of your socks?” I looked down, embarrassed.

He then explained to us, that when we dress neatly, it is not only for us, it is for the others. "If you go to someone’s place dressed shabbily, you are insulting them. You are saying you don’t care enough to appear clean and tidy. You simply don’t care."

And that was it. I had never thought about it like that. Since then, there was a considerable improvement in the way I started dressing myself up. He also taught us the right body language; he taught us compassion, humility, and punctuality. I began to love his classes and always looked forward to them. He also made a box where he asked us to write our suggestions of topics that we would like to discuss with him. And we wrote, oh, how much I wrote. We talked about relationships, God, spirituality, death, money, education, family, career, life, teenage confusions and a whole lot of other things. I never missed a single class. Every class used to leave me pondering, and compelled me to write about it in my journal. He used to solve our fights and conflicts patiently, like a counselor. He just had a way with words, if you know what I mean.

Though, I often wondered about those marks on his hands.

Years passed, and his classes were over. We moved to the 11^th standard and apparently, Value Education classes are not as important when girls turn 17. All the while, I never got enough guts to talk to him about something on a personal level. Although I really wanted to. I was a good student, did all my work on time, but never did I follow him any day after class to just talk to him. Or to tell him about my feelings about his classes. I should have. Really should have. I learnt many life’s lessons in that classroom; I became a better, more empathetic human being. I learnt how to be selfless and kind. How to believe in something. How to improve as a performer, and as a person. And I owed that much to him.

Finally, one day I got to know he was being transferred to another school. It was his farewell party in a week. I couldn’t believe it. Immediately, I got some handmade paper and made a card for him. A flowing river, with a lone figure walking on a bridge over it. Underneath it I wrote, “Whenever there will be trouble, your wisdom is going to help me through.”

It sounds stupid right now, and maybe a little too much. Inside I wrote everything I wanted to say to him, everything his classes meant to me, and how much I learnt from them and cherished them. Before he left, we all stood around him, holding flowers and banners. He came up to me, looked at me with those black, beady eyes and said “It feels good to know my classes helped at least one student. It means a lot, thank you.” And then he just left. Forever. And I still continued to wear clean socks.

After reading Morrie, I became sad. I wondered where sir would be, how he would be. And then it hit me! Hey, we’re not living in the ‘70s anymore. I Facebooked him! Yes, he was there! He currently lives in Ontario, Canada! He still looks the same :) At once, I sent him a friend request.

I hope he remembers me :)

I still often wonder about those scars though.

My number one girl.

"Childhood is measured by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows."

It was a time of Dexter’s laboratory and Falguni Pathak songs on TV. It was a time of going to school half sleeping in the auto and fighting about who will have the remote control while coming back. It was a time of buying the coolest school bags and raincoats. Of stitching Barbie doll dresses and drawing our favourite cartoon characters on greeting cards. It was a time of Enid Blyton novels and saving pocket money to buy ice-cream from the Madhu ice-cream vendor every evening. Of hiding in cardboard cartons for hours and BOO-ing at passers-by, and buying the perfect pichkaaris for Holi. It was a time of hide-and-seek, Coat piece, Business King, Contra, killing Shredder in the Ninja turtles, watching BBQ, Dragon Ball Z, The Bold and The Beautiful, and Baywatch. Where did those days go?

She was my first friend when I was growing up. She came to my rescue when I was bullied by fat girls in school and she was always there when I needed money for ice cream. She took me back to my class safely when I went to her class bawling because I thought that my entire class had ‘disappeared’. She submitted all my leave applications to the Principal’s office because I was too scared to do it myself, and she always gave a call home when I forgot to get my bag to school. She helped me mug up the paryaayvaachi shabd before my Hindi exam and she always decorated and wrote the headings for all my school projects in attractive italics. She screamed at me whenever I was stupid, and as we all know, she has a very low tolerance level for stupidity. She covered up for me when I got low marks and she always introduced me to her friends. Trotting behind her hurriedly as we walked inside the school gates, and always, always looking back once more and waving that one extra ‘bye’ before we went to our respective buildings had become almost essential. I would feel so happy whenever I saw her with her big group of friends in school. I would show her off to all my friends. “You see her? Yes, that’s my didi.” I still remember what she looked like back then. Tall, slightly buck-toothed, silent, composed; wearing round golden earrings and a red ribbon in her high ponytail.

I hated her as we grew up. She was mean and she yelled at me a little too often. She said the most spiteful things and we fought almost every day. I was not exactly an angel myself; probably was a shrilly, irritating little tattletale. We usually had physical brawls, which pretty much ended the same way. With me wailing at the top of my lungs till I got the satisfaction of mom scolding her, and she passing rude, nasty comments to me for the next few days. I still remember how once she dug her nails into my skin and I showed the marks to everyone for the next week. Worse, once she was running after me to give me a good beating, and I closed the door on her face; resulting into a small injury in her eyebrow. That small little gap is still there, and will always be there, reminding her of our unpleasant childhood scuffles :)

We bonded when I matured a little. She told me about her secrets and I told her about my crushes. I began to like her for who she was as a person and even wrote this in her slam book once “Please don’t be cutta with me for whatever I say because I’ll always be sorry.” :P She continued to roar and growl at me on a regular basis, but we really grew on each other. She introduced me to Enigma, Britney, Shakira, Enrique, Westlife, BSB and I spent hours writing all the lyrics down so that we’d be able to sing them together. (She was really bad at learning lyrics. Still is) She wouldn't start studying before killing all the mosquitoes mercilessly and she hated everyone when it was too hot. She read all my childhood stories infested with grammatical and spelling mistakes with a lot of enthusiasm and always encouraged me to write further. She always had that one last bite of Maggi from my plate even though she knew how much I hated it :)

She fought with me when I made the biggest blunders of my life. I never realized then, but now I do. I should have listened to her then. I wish we hadn’t drifted apart for all those months, until it was too late. Until she was gone for MBA. Better late than never though, I have finally realized it. She was only looking out for me. And her way of showing that she cares is not being an overly affectionate big sister, but being a hard, strong teacher.

My didi, who always picked my clothes out for me when we shopped, and showed me how to colour inside the lines, and who hugged me tightly whenever she heard me crying softly in bed, and who always gets me the most wonderful gifts every time she meets me, is getting married. Yes, you heard me. That girl, who I have seen grow up before my eyes. The girl who had major temper issues, who had terrifying arguments with mom and dad. The headstrong girl, with a lot of dreams inside her, has finally become an independent, fully grown-up woman.

I cannot believe she is getting married. Married?! Where did those days go? Those never-ending laughing sessions. The studying together during exams, and her sending me off to make tea and then asking me to wake her up after half an hour. The long, long, conversations that would outgrow the night and we would be in splits on the floor. The times I missed her when she stayed in her locked room, talking on the phone. The times when I was jealous and proud of her at the same time. The times when she woke me up by trying out something innovative each morning and the hysterical laughing sessions looking at each other’s ponytails in the morning. The naming all our toys and throwing parties to celebrate their birthdays. Cycling in our lane, skating on our porch, going out for Big Bun's burgers, MKOP's truffle, Bhagat's bhalla...

Where did the carefree pasta-making, movies-watching, song-singing, dancing-for-no-reason days go? It seems like only yesterday when she would hold my hand and take me to summer hobby classes and swimming lessons.

Though we are completely different people in every way, I still smile when people say we look like twins, or when they point out that the way we speak and laugh is similar. She has always been my strength. She has always, always been there. She listened to me when I called her up crying in the middle of the night during my existential crisis phases. And she always rolled her eyes when I told her how and why my life couldn't be better.

Didoo, I know after reading this post you are probably going to say “Nautanki!” but I really, really want you to know. I love you. And I’m sorry if I’ve never been appreciative enough, if I’ve never made it clear. You know what an idiotic emotional wimp I am. Our conversation in Baroda made me realize you cared about me as much as I cared about you. It’s just that you are not that expressive enough. But I have always loved you. How could I not? You were always there, supporting me, providing me a cushion that I could always fall back upon. And being a witness and a partner to all my craziness.

You actually are getting married. (Good lord!) I’m so happy you’re marrying someone you love and someone who loves you back. I hope you have an amazing life ahead. I hope you get what you’ve always dreamed of. I know all about them :) You’re my number one inspiration, my number one best friend and one of my most favourite people in the world. You’re my number one girl.

Come soon so I can see you make that typical expression of yours that I know you’re making right now :)

P.S. You know what? You’re going to be a bride :O :)

(Didoo and me, 1994)

(Didoo and me, 2011)

Dear Fifteen-year-old me..

Chee once shared an email with me which talked about a book that was published which contained letters written by celebrities to their sixteen year old selves. They were really funny and gave an insight into how they changed over the years. And now all sixteen year olds are careless and naïve and kind of crazy. Although I’m only(?) 21 right now, I want to write a letter to my fifteen year old self. So, here it goes:

Dear Fifteen-year-old me,

You know what? You’re STUPID. I wish I could go back in time and give you a nice, big whack on your head. Stop caring about how you look and what people think of you. Seriously, no one cares. And it doesn’t matter. Your best friends will hardly care. I know your hormones are surging, and you’re in an all-girls school, but need you behave like that when you see a bunch of cute guys around? Relax, girl. Don’t panic. It’ll pass. It’s temporary.

Please study for your boards. You know you have brains and you just have to apply them. I know that your board exam marks won’t matter in the future and no one is going to be remotely interested in them once you join college, but getting a 90+ will make you feel so much better about yourself. Do not get lost in the world of social networking. It will waste your time and you will read lesser and lesser until you don’t have the patience to finish any book. And that sucks.

Try to judge people better and have the discretion to know who is actually your friend and who only pretends to be. People will use you because you’re so naïve. Do NOT trust people too fast. Do not be lured into a world of ‘going out’ and ‘looking good’ and superficial relationships. Do not try to be cool. It’s overrated. And you’re not very good at it. It's okay to speak your mind and it's good to say no sometimes. Stop taking shit from people. And let go of some people before you realize they weren't worth it.

Know the guy you think you’re in love with? (Of course you do, you’re obsessed with him) Yea well, you don’t. You’re fifteen ! And he doesn’t too. No matter what he says. Realize it sooner or you’re going to cause yourself a lot of mind-numbing, excruciating, soul shattering, heartbreaking pain, remorse, regret and grief. Or you know what, don’t. That relationship is going to make you realize everything you were missing out on and it will make you more careful. It’s going to lead you to find true love when you least expected it.

Read newspapers. Spend more time with your family. Waste less time on the phone. DON’T think about what a certain someone said about you. It’s not true and don’t let it get to you. I know you’re skinny but one day it won’t matter that much. Trust me. I know you fret, worry and cry about little things but you do know how to have a good time. Don’t let that go. Don’t let the innocence fade away. It’s okay to let friendships break. It’s okay to let things go. Good things will come to you. You have an amazing life ahead of you. Make the most of it. And no matter how stupid you are right now, you’re a good girl. I’m going to like you.

Love,

Astha from the future :)